


call me friend (but keep me closer)

by alaseux



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, jean is POWERFUL and he is HEALING and i LOVE HIM!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaseux/pseuds/alaseux
Summary: “Jean,” Jeremy is saying, and moonlight is spilling over his cheekbones and across his mouth like runaway quicksilver. “Jean, seriously, are you all right?”Jean blinks once, twice. “Oh. Jeremy. Yes, I am fine.”(in which Jean is recovering and Jeremy is there to help)





	call me friend (but keep me closer)

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE MY BOYS!!!!!!!!
> 
> title is from when the party's over by billie eilish bc god she really snapped on her new album

The first time he wakes up in California, Jean can’t remember where he is. All he can see is black and red and shadows and blood and his lungs are collapsing in on themselves and there is a raven-shaped hole in his heart where gentleness used to be. His fingers are tangled in the sheets, useless, and Riko’s standing over his bed, and Jean’s pulse is racing because he knows, he  _ knows  _ what comes next when Riko wakes him up in the middle of the night. 

But Riko has never touched him like this, his hand light and clement on Jean’s shoulder, and Riko has never bothered to ask him if he’s okay and if there’s anything he can do to help, and suddenly the Nest flickers away and the real world comes back into focus.

It isn’t Riko standing there, it’s Jeremy, and Jean isn’t at Edgar Allan, he’s at USC, and he feels sick when he realizes that he hasn’t even lasted a  _ day  _ in L.A. without having a fucking panic attack. 

“Jean,” Jeremy is saying, and moonlight is spilling over his cheekbones and across his mouth like runaway quicksilver. “Jean, seriously, are you all right?”

Jean blinks once, twice. “Oh. Jeremy. Yes, I am fine.”

“Can I get you something to drink, or something? We have tea, and coffee, and, like, copious amounts of alcohol,” offers Jeremy, trying―and failing―to sound calm.

“Um,” says Jean. “Water?”

“Yeah!” Jeremy says, like  _ of course, friend!  _ not  _ duh, idiot. _ “I can do water. Want ice?”

“Sure?” responds Jean, vaguely bewildered by the fact that ice in his water is just―an  _ option  _ that he can accept or refuse on his own terms. The world has been turned on its axis and Jean hasn’t had time to adjust.

“Be right back,” Jeremy says, spinning around to leave, and on impulse, Jean reaches out and grabs his wrist. The sudden movement tugs at his injuries and he winces hard.

“Don’t leave me,” he bites out, through the shame and disgust coating his throat.

“Oh,” says Jeremy, brow wrinkling, then smoothing out again in realization. “Oh! Of course not! Sorry! Here, come with me to the kitchen?”

Jean nods and slowly gets to his feet, forcing himself to let go of Jeremy. He follows him to the kitchen, which looks pretty bizarre considering Jean’s about a head taller than Jeremy and yet he’s trailing behind him like a lost child, but it’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s almost four in the morning, and no one else lives in this dorm suite, and Jean can’t bring himself to care about maintaining his dignity right now because he’s focusing very hard on getting his pulse to calm down to a normal pace.

The kitchen is dark, and the tiles are cold under Jean’s feet. Distantly, he registers the yellow walls that had, according to Jeremy, been spray-painted during Jeremy’s sophomore year. The moonlight reflects off them, too. Jean is burdened by parallels.

Pulling a mug from the cupboard, Jeremy quietly asks, “Were you having a nightmare?” and oh, so this is what it feels like to have someone cut into your skull and see directly into your thoughts.

Jean knows his roommate isn’t particularly opaque, and that Jeremy expects the same amount of honesty from others, so he replies, “Yes. About, um, the Nest.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Jeremy hands him the mug, now filled with mostly ice and a bit of water, and blinks hard when he registers what he’s said. “You don’t have to answer that! You don’t have to answer any of my questions. Sorry. I know I’m really nosy.”

“You apologize often,” Jean observes, sipping his water and shoving down the urge to throw the mug across the room in frustration. He is annoyed by the bright blue cabinets, and the gentle moonlight coming in from the windows, and the novelty tapestries on the walls that look like they’ve been ordered from fucking Etsy. He hates them and he loves them and he hates that he loves them. Being cut up by one’s own teammate for nine years will do that to a person, so he lets the feeling slide, just this once.

“Sorry,” Jeremy says, just to be difficult, with a little secret smile that makes Jean want to stab something.

He takes another drink and stays quiet, instead. The water is cool against his scratchy throat and he’s glad he went with the pro-ice option.

Thankfully, Jeremy senses that Jean’s not in the mood for deep conversations about past traumas, and he says, “Do you want to go back to bed now? Or we could, like, watch a movie, or make food, or FaceTime Alvarez and Laila―”

Before he can think better of it, Jean says, “I have never seen  _ The Notebook.”  _ (His voice is soft, though, in case Jeremy doesn’t like the suggestion).

But Jeremy does, apparently, because his eyes light up and a wide grin splits his face open. “Do you want to watch it?”

“Yes,” admits Jean. 

Two and a half hours later, the movie is over, the sun is beginning to rise, and Jeremy is crying very hard on the couch while Jean debates what to do to help him.

“Jeremy,” he says cautiously. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” manages Jeremy, though the tears streaming down his face. He is a very soft thing, and Jean doesn’t know how to deal with his benignity. “They just―they loved each other so much? Like, they never ever gave up on each other, and they were so fucking  _ in love, _ you know?”

Jean doesn’t, but he thinks he gets what Jeremy’s trying to say. (He hopes he does, at least.) “Do you want to go to bed now?”

“Sure,” Jeremy sniffs, rubbing hard at his eyes and standing.

They go back to their room and get into their respective twin-sized beds and Jeremy falls asleep almost instantly, but Jean stays awake, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and counting his own breaths.

_ So this is California, _ he thinks, and then, more surprisingly,  _ Maybe I am going to be okay. _

**Author's Note:**

> thank u sm for reading uwu!!! leave me kudos/comments if ur feelin it ilysmmmm  
> (my best friend made me watch the notebook with her last week and im here to announce that i will never recover!)


End file.
